


I Think I Know Jimmy Novak When I See Him

by glassclosetcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Awkwardness, Embarrassment, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Standup Comedy, happy birthday dean winchester, sabriel if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5808811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassclosetcastiel/pseuds/glassclosetcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Dean’s 37th birthday, which means he can see 40 looming in the distance like a too-deep pothole that he just can’t swerve around. He’s been dreading 37 since January 24th of last year, but tonight he’s not worried about it. Tonight, Sammy’s taking him to see his favorite comedian, live and in person at the Improv just north of Kansas City. Tonight, he’s (hopefully) gonna meet Jimmy Novak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I Know Jimmy Novak When I See Him

**Author's Note:**

> This is a super embarrassing story, because it actually happened to me (minus the romance and sexy bits. Just the embarrassing part). I won't say anything else.
> 
> Thank you to Becca, Ash and Izzy for looking it over!
> 
> Happy birthday, Dean!

It’s Dean’s 37th birthday, which means he can see 40 looming in the distance like a too-deep pothole that he just can’t swerve around. He’s been dreading 37 since January 24th of last year, but tonight he’s not worried about it. Tonight, Sammy’s taking him to see his favorite comedian, live and in person at the Improv just north of Kansas City. Tonight, he’s (hopefully) gonna meet Jimmy Novak.

——

Dean circles the block a few times looking for a free place to park, but eventually sighs and ponies up the 15 bucks to park in the Improv lot. “‘S’alright, Sammy,” he says. “Anything for Jimmy Novak.”

Sam snorts. “You’re gonna be absolutely insufferable when we meet him, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean grunts. Alright, so maybe Dean kind of has a thing for Jimmy Novak. But who wouldn’t? He’s the funniest up-and-coming comedian this side of Aziz Ansari—not to mention he’s hot as hell.

_He’s straight, dude,_ Dean’s brain pipes up. Dean tells his brain to fuck off. Nothing can get him down tonight.

They brace themselves against the freezing cold wind and cross the street. The Improv is all dark colors and moody lighting, but it’s warm inside and buzzing with excitement. The lobby is plastered with 11x17 posters of Jimmy Novak’s face. Dean coughs and rips one down, rolling it up and sticking it in his coat pocket.

“Smooth,” Sam whispers.

Dean just smirks and flips him off.

The show doesn’t start for another 45 minutes and doors won’t open until 7:30, so they hit up the fully-stocked bar to the side of the lobby and Dean gets them an El Sol each.

Sam holds his up in a toast. “Happy birthday, man. Just three more years until you go grey and you’re blind as a bat, just like Dad.”

Dean clinks beers with his brother. “Juuust you wait, bitch. You think that hair’s gonna last forever? It skips a generation. I give you ‘til 35, tops. You’ll be bald as grandpa by 2018, mark my words.”

Sam laughs and they take identical sips. _Maybe 37 ain’t so bad,_ Dean thinks.

The bar starts to overflow with people, so they take their beers and migrate back through the lobby toward a couple of life-size standing posters of Jimmy. Dean refrains from taking a selfie with one of them. Sam offers to take his picture anyway. Dean makes a grumpy face on purpose, but he still strokes Jimmy’s face with the back of his hand. Sam laughs out loud.

They find a merch table partially obscured by the giant posters, and Dean walks around to the front to take it all in. A whole plethora of Jimmy Novak merchandise sits before them—t-shirts, autographed head shots and tour posters, DVDs of his standup specials, even his comedic autobiography, _Talking to Myself_.

“Oh, I gotta get one of these,” Dean says. Everything is signed in silver sharpie. Dean swipes his thumb over Jimmy’s signature and Sam rolls his eyes.

A gruff voice cuts through the noise of the room behind them. “Sorry guys, I’m coming,” the man says.

Dean wheels around and sees a mess of dark hair, blue eyes, and a rumpled coat and tie headed there way. _“Dude,”_ he hisses. _“It’s him. It's Jimmy-freakin’-Novak.”_

Sam turns, too, and frowns. “Are you sure?” he asks under his breath.

“Am I sure?” Dean scoffs. “I think I know Jimmy Novak when I see him.”

A moment later, Jimmy is there at the merch table, setting a wine glass down on a napkin and wiping his hands on his slacks. “Sorry about that,” he says.

Dean’s stomach does a flip. His voice is deeper in person, his eyes an even richer shade of blue. His smile is timid and fucking adorable.

“All of these are signed,” Jimmy says, indicating the posters and head shots. “These shirts have every tour stop on the back.” He lifts one of the t-shirts up and turns it around, showing off a listing of what has to be over 50 US cities.

“Holy shit,” Dean says. “That’s all from this tour?”

Jimmy huffs a little laugh and nods.

Dean whistles. “You’ve gotta be fucking exhausted.” He immediately regrets saying it, but Jimmy just gives him that little smile again. 

“I will admit, it'll be nice to get home," Jimmy says. 

Dean takes a chance and asks, "Where's home?"

"Not far, thankfully. This is our last stop."

They end up just smiling at each other for a moment, Dean knowing he can't be imagining the spark he feels between them. He feels like a teenage girl for believing he's made a connection with his favorite celebrity, but it isn't like that. There's something in the way Jimmy looks at him—like he's not just trying to sell merchandise to a fan. Like he expects something more.

Emboldened, Dean leans in a bit and lowers his voice. “So this is, what, your fiftieth show? Don’t you get tired of saying the same shit over and over again?”

Jimmy’s smile contorts into a bit of a grimace. He leans away and coughs. “Um. Well, you know. Anything for the fans."

It’s awkward and stilted, and suddenly his face is closed off. Dean wonders if he offended him somehow. He buys everything he can carry and thanks Jimmy, biting back an apology to go with it.

“Sonofabitch,” Dean says as they walk away. “I think I made him uncomfortable.”

They lean against the wall again and watch as the merch table is swarmed with people. Jimmy looks overwhelmed. 

“I really don’t think that’s him, dude,” Sam says again.

Dean groans. “Sammy, trust me. I know the guy’s face. Really, _really_ well.”

“Ew.”

“That’s not what I meant, bitch,” Dean says. It kinda is, though.

Dean massages his eyebrows. He checks his watch. The house doors should be opening any minute, but Jimmy’s still there at the table, smiling his way through selfies with fans. “I should get a picture with him,” Dean decides.

Sam holds him back by his arm. “Maybe you should just wait. Um. Until the end of the show.” He juts his chin out at the theatre doors. “Look, they’re opening the house. We should get our seats.”

Dean shifts the plastic bag of all of his merch into the crook of his elbow and pulls his ticket out of his pocket. He and Sam exchange their tickets for programs and an usher leads them to their row. They’re up close and personal at a little table a few rows from the stage. Dean finishes off his beer and orders a whiskey when the waitress comes around. “S’my birthday,” Dean says in response to Sam’s eye-roll. He ends up ordering a basket of mozzarella sticks, though, so the drink won’t hit him too hard.

The opener’s a small guy with lots of energy. He’s not too bad—maybe a little snarky for Dean’s taste. He does a lot of crowd work, which Sam finds fucking hilarious. He laughs the loudest and longest at all of his jokes, and by the end, the dude has called Sam out for being a sasquatch, complimented his beautifully-styled hair, and told the audience that his musk must be ungodly strong and irresistible. Sam whistles and claps obnoxiously hard as the guy ends his set. Dean sits back and raises his eyebrows at his brother.

“What?” Sam asks. “He was great.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, that’s my time,” the guy says. “Thank you for bein’ a good sport, sport,” he tells Sam. Sam laughs again.

“It is my pleasure, my privilege, _nay,_ my honor, to introduce to you, Kansas City, the one—the only—Jimmy Novak!”

It’s Dean’s turn to whistle as Jimmy takes the stage. He looks a little more polished—his hair is styled now, and he’s got that overly-confident smirk in place that drives everyone nuts.

Sam leans into Dean’s space to yell over the clapping and cheering. “It’s a different guy! He’s wearing a different shirt!”

Dean gives Jimmy another once-over. Yeah, okay, so he’s done his hair and changed his clothes. He had enough time to do all of that while that Gabe dude was on stage, though, so that doesn’t mean anything. Still, now that Sam’s planted the seed of doubt, Dean feels improbably confused about it.

“Thanks Gabe,” Jimmy says, giving the opener a clap on the back as he leaves the stage. “Thank you guys so much. How are you feelin’, Kansas City?”

The room once more erupts into applause. Dean claps along.

“Kansas City,” Jimmy repeats. “Last stop on the tour! It’s been amazing so far. I’d like to thank my brother, Cassie, for coming along on this tour with me. He hates having attention on him, but tough shit! Wave, Cassie!” Jimmy shouts out into the audience.

Dean’s stomach drops as he turns around on his stool and sees the guy from the merch table leaning against the entrance to the theatre, waving awkwardly. He looks exactly like Jimmy, except he’s a bit scruffier, maybe. _Of course, Cassie,_ Dean thinks. Jimmy talks about his brother in all of his standup specials. He never mentioned they were twins, though.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean says. “Fucking. Fuck.” He’s never been so embarrassed in his entire life.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and thankfully refrains from saying something like ‘I told you so.’

Dean slumps a bit and drains his whiskey. He eats all of the mozzarella sticks and doesn’t care about the cholesterol. Maybe his arteries will take pity on him and put him out of his misery.

He tries to enjoy the show. By the time twenty minutes have passed, he’s feeling the burn of his second whiskey and starting to care less about his embarrassment. When Jimmy asks if there are any birthdays or anniversaries, Sam lets out a whoop and points both fingers at Dean. Dean hides his face.

“Whoo, we got a birthday boy in the house,” Jimmy says. “What’s your name, man?”

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, Dean.”

“And how old are you today, Dean?”

“He’s 37!” Sam shouts. Everyone laughs.

Jimmy claps. “37, shit. I remember when I was 37. Three wives ago. I mean years ago.”

That gets a laugh out of Dean, and the focus is back on Jimmy. He takes a deep breath and relaxes, settling in to enjoy the rest of the hour-long set.

——

Jimmy gets a standing ovation, and he tells everyone he and his opener, Gabe, will be out in the lobby for pictures and autographs. Dean doesn’t get up immediately.

“You okay?” Sam asks. His expression is genuinely sympathetic, and that kind of makes it worse.

Dean waves him off. “Yeah, fine. He was great, huh?”

“Yeah, they both were. Hey, I think I’m gonna go get Gabe’s CD. Uh. Meet you out there?”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, yeah, Sammy. Go find your boyfriend.”

Sam pulls his jacket on and throws down a ten for their waitress. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean says.

He waits for the room to start to clear out before making his exit. There’s a huge line of people waiting to meet Jimmy at his merch table, phones at the ready for selfies. Sam is the lone person at Gabe’s table, but neither of them seems too upset about it. Dean smiles and thinks, _go get ‘im, Sammy._ At least one of them can go home happy and not-mortified.

“Happy birthday,” a gravelly voice says. Dean turns to find Jimmy’s brother Cassie standing a few feet away, leaning on the wall next to him.

Dean can feel his blush down to his toes. “Uh, thanks, man,” he says. He clears his throat and turns to face the guy head-on, fully taking in the familiar-but-different planes of his face, the minute disparity in his and Jimmy’s build. Cassie’s a little bit thicker than his brother, and Dean doesn’t mind it at all.

“Hey,” Dean says. He clears his throat. “I’m uh, I’m sorry about earlier. I swear if I’d’a known it was you, I would have been just as excited to meet you. I mean, you’re practically famous from Jimmy’s stories.”

Cassie huffs another soft laugh and looks down at his toes. “Yes, it always comes as a shock when people can recite all of my most embarrassing moments to me.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Dean says. “At least now we’re even on the embarrassing stories front.”

Cassie shakes his head. “You’d be amazed how often that happens. I don’t think Jimmy and I look that much alike, but then again, we are identical.” He’s got that warm, soft smile on his face again. Dean leans in and holds out his hand.

“I’m Dean.”

“I know,” the guy says with a smile. “I’m Castiel. Please, don’t call me Cassie,” he adds. They both laugh.

Dean tries out the new name. “Castiel. No wonder he calls you Cassie, that’s a mouthful. Mind if I just call you Cas?” Dean realizes how forward it sounds as it’s coming out of his mouth, but Castiel just smiles wider.

“Not at all. That’s definitely preferable.”

They stand there for a moment, just staring at one another. Dean feels his heartbeat skipping a few beats and finally regrets the cheese sticks.

“Would you, ah,” Cas begins, nodding at the rolled-up poster in Dean’s coat pocket. “Would you like Jimmy to sign that?”

Dean blushes again, remembering his theft. “Um, no, that’s okay. I already got his autograph on pretty much everything else.” He lifts the plastic bag of merch up with a tight smile. “Besides, I don’t need to meet him.”

Castiel raises an incredulous eyebrow. “No? Looks like you’re a pretty big fan.”

“Yeah, um,” Dean splutters. “About that. I was real excited to meet him, but uh. Now I don’t think it’d be as exciting.”

Cas tilts his head, brows furrowed. “Why not? I promise I won’t say anything about earlier, if you’re still embarrassed about that.”

Dean huffs a laugh and drops his eyes. Hell, it’s his birthday. He might as well go for it. “No, I, uh. That’s not it. It’s just. He isn’t _you._ ”

Castiel’s eyebrows go into his hairline, and for a second Dean thinks he’s read this whole situation incredibly wrong. But then that smile breaks over Cas’ face, and Dean lets out a sigh of relief.

“Too cheesy?” he asks.

Castiel laughs. “Maybe a bit. But I’m really glad you said it.”

Dean’s whole face lights up.

“Can I get you a drink?” Castiel asks, cocking his head toward the bar. “Or, we could go elsewhere?”

Dean knows it’s not an innuendo—he’s just offering to go someplace other than the small Improv bar. Dean nods vigorously. “Absolutely. Anywhere.”

Cas laughs again. “Is your… friend going to be okay?” His gaze flits over to the table across the room where Gabe and Sam are exchanging heated looks and taking turns laughing.

“That’s my brother, Sam,” Dean says. “And yeah, he, uh. He looks alright. Let me just…”

Cas waves him off. “By all means. I’ll be here.”

Dean cuts through the line of Jimmy’s fans to reach Sam. His brother has his head tossed back, laughing wildly at something Gabe said. Dean comes around and gets his attention.

“Hey, Sammy. Listen,” Dean says. “I’m, uh. I’m taking Cas… somewhere.”

“Cas?” Sam asks. His cheeks are bright red and there are tears in his eyes. He wipes them on his sleeve.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you know. Cassie? Jimmy’s brother?”

“Oh shiiiit,” Gabe says. “Does it run in the family?”

Sam turns an even deeper shade of red. Dean claps him on the shoulder. “Guess you’ll just have to find out. You can find a ride, right, Sammy?” He winks at Gabe, and Gabe waggles his eyebrows.

“Don’t worry, boss, I’ll make sure he gets home safe. You kids have fun!”

Sam has gone absolutely speechless. Perfect. Dean salutes him as he turns around and heads back to Cas, who looks as if he’s just been standing there watching Dean’s every move for the past five minutes. It makes Dean shiver.

“Ready?” he asks.

Castiel smiles. “Almost. I should just let Jimmy know where I’m off to. Come on,” he adds, beckoning Dean to follow him. Cas cuts to the front of the line and apologizes to the group of girls waiting for Jimmy’s autograph.

“Please excuse me,” he says. “Jimmy, this is Dean.”

Dean waves awkwardly from a few feet away. “Hey.”

“Oh yeah, birthday boy! Nice to officially meet you,” Jimmy says. His voice is nothing like Castiel’s, his face too animated, his expressions too bright. Dean can tell he’d quickly tire of being in Jimmy’s presence for too long.

Still, Jimmy is his favorite comedian. He shakes hands with him and compliments him on a job well done, on ending his tour on a high note.

“Dean and I are going out,” Cas says. “I’ll see you…” he trails off, looking to Dean with eyebrows raised. Dean just gives a little shrug and a smirk. Castiel gives him that private smile and turns back to his brother. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose.”

Jimmy laughs and holds a hand up for a high-five. Cas shakes his head and begrudgingly smacks his brother’s hand. “You go, girl,” Jimmy teases. “Treat that man well! It’s his birthday!”

The line of fans cheer, and Castiel takes Dean’s hand and turns them away. Over his shoulder, he tells his brother, “I’m planning on it.”

——

Hours later, in the comfort and warmth of his bedroom, Castiel curled tightly and snugly around him, Dean checks his watch. It’s not technically January 24th anymore, but he still sighs in content and kisses the crown of Cas’ head where it rests heavily on his shoulder. 

_Happy freakin’ birthday to me._

**Author's Note:**

> So yEP, that really happened. It was at a Mike Birbiglia show, and while his brother Joe Bags isn't his twin, they look so much alike that I was convinced. Meanwhile, my fiance isn't even a huge fan and was like "I don't think that's him, babe," and I was like "I THINK I KNOW MIKE BIRBIGLIA WHEN I SEE HIM."
> 
> Ugh. This might be my most embarrassing moment. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Come say hey to me on [tumblr](glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com) and [twitter](twitter.com/glassclosetcas). Let us wail about Casifer together.
> 
> [Rebloggable link for tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com/post/137980158324/i-think-i-know-jimmy-novak-when-i-see-him)


End file.
